


there's always time to change your mind

by smolalienbee



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Universe, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, In a way, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot, POV Alternating, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Sad with a Happy Ending, Short, Songfic, another weird one shot with no plot and a lot of focus on emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24523186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolalienbee/pseuds/smolalienbee
Summary: A songfic written around the lyrics to Shots by Imagine Dragons. A (sort of) character study of Aziraphale and Crowley and a look at their shifting feelings for each other over the centuries.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 11





	there's always time to change your mind

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I've been feeling awful over the last several days and this is my way of chilling out. I've been listening to Imagine Dragons and the lyrics to Shots struck me as very fitting for these two so I just...... sat down and wrote this one shot. Hope you enjoy!

_Am I out of touch?_

_Am I out of my place?_

Crowley doesn’t know a world without Aziraphale in it. 

Sure, there was a time when he wasn’t so intimately familiar with the angel’s smile, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way he wiggled when he was excited or the way he wrung his hands when he was nervous. But that was a long time ago, before the Fall, before the world truly started, it was all hazy, best left forgotten.

Crowley’s always felt the most at home with the angel at his side. Doesn’t matter if it’s the garden of Eden, when he had just first slithered up to him, if it’s ancient Rome or Italy or, well, any place in the whole wide universe. Where Aziraphale is, that’s where home is. But that doesn’t mean the demon’s anxiety is ever fully quelled. He puts on a brave face, he smiles and saunters as he approaches him, greets him, year after year, century after century, but the question is there, it lingers, _is this too much? Am I out of my place? Does he even want me? Is this why I fell, for asking for too much?_

Yet he does, still. He seeks him out. He’s never too far behind. Always nearby, always watching Aziraphale as if he was his own guardian angel. 

Perhaps in a way he is.

_Oh, I'm wishing you're here_

_But I'm wishing you're gone_

_I can't have you and I'm only gonna do you wrong_

Aziraphale doesn’t know how to feel about Crowley.

He barely knows the world without the demon in it. It was there, in the past, back in Heaven, but that time feels white and cold and empty, devoid of emotion, devoid of the overwhelming warmth and love that Crowley radiates with, at all times. Sometimes, Aziraphale wonders if Crowley is even aware of it, aware of the bright aura that surrounds him whenever they’re together. 

Aziraphale wants him to stay. He usually does, even when his mouth moves on its own and says something entirely else, even when he tells him no for what is probably a millionth time already. Aziraphale wants him to stay, he wants him to be close, but he can’t tell him that, can’t respond with the same kind of warmth the demon has for him. 

Aziraphale wants him gone. Crowley’s presence comes with too much. Always so much, always too much, so overwhelming and full and yet so very lovely. Too much love, too much emotion, too much longing and the worst of all, too much danger. And whenever he thinks about Crowley getting hurt, Aziraphale feels something inside of him break, something so very human and yet not exactly, maybe his soul or his heart or perhaps his whole angelic being. A terrible, terrible feeling, so selfless and selfish all at once. So selfless and selfish to be keeping the demon at much further away than just arm’s length, to want him gone, to rid them both of his terrible, terrible pain. 

_Oh, I'm going to mess this up_

_Oh, this is just my luck_

_Over and over and over again_

Crowley knows one day he’ll bugger it all up completely.

He knows, one day, Aziraphale will tell him no and it’ll be definitive, there will be no more tempting, no more lunches, nothing to soften the angel’s face. There are many times over the centuries that he feels this is it, this is the final straw. St James’ Park, the Holy Water, that note, it stands out the most in his mind. _Fraternising_ , he heard him say and his whole being cried out, cried with questions, _are we not more already? Do you not care for me as I care for you?_

He had tried to stay away after that. He had tried to keep his distance. But it wasn’t going to last long, was it? It was just a matter of time before he was on the angel’s toes again, because he was watching, observing, protecting as if that was the only purpose his existence had. Always Aziraphale, only Aziraphale, everything spinning around that one angel. 

He’s afraid, as he walks through that church. Not of the bombs, not of the secret agents and spies, no, he’s afraid of the angel, his angel, afraid of being alone again. 

He realizes, rather acutely, that no matter how many times he messes up, he won’t be able to stay away. 

_I'm sorry for everything_

_Oh, everything I've done_

_From the second that I was born it seems I had a loaded gun_

_And then I shot, shot, shot a hole through everything I loved_

Aziraphale knows he’s hurt Crowley many times.

He remembers every no. Remembers every time he called them enemies, every time he pushed Crowley away. He’ll never forget, he’ll never let himself forget. Crowley’s pained expression, his aura pulsing a steady _don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me, don’t leave me,_ it’s a fresh wound in his mind, at all times.

He can’t control himself, sometimes. He can’t control what he says, the fear overtaking him, the what-ifs plaguing his mind. A constant sway, back and forth, _you have to protect him, he wants to be close, he can’t be close, but are you really protecting him? Are you really protecting him when you keep breaking his heart over and over again?_

He goes too fast and the only way Aziraphale knows how to slow him down is by stopping him completely. A few words, a shot, point-blank, and then Crowley’s light flickers, a candle dying out. _I’ll wait, don’t leave me, I’ll wait for you, just don’t go._

Aziraphale doesn’t think he deserves to be forgiven.

_Am I out of luck?_

_Am I waiting to break?_

_When I keep saying that I'm looking for a way to escape_

Crowley doesn’t know how to feel about Aziraphale.

When the Armageddon comes and they’re at risk of yet another war, not just a human war, but a war between Heaven and Hell, Crowley doesn’t know how to hold back anymore. He doesn’t know how to stop all these feelings from overflowing, everything he’s kept bottled up for ages, centuries, 6000 years trying to keep it all in, hidden, protected by the flesh of his human body.

He wants to be close, so close, but he fears that if he reaches out once more, he’ll take too much. He’ll take everything that he’s always wanted to take until there’s nothing of the angel left. So close to the End, but he still feels like there’s too much standing between them and it’s pushing at him, at his lungs, at his heart, his soul, his snakeskin, breaking everything that he is. 

Two stars, orbiting one another and Crowley is burning bright, brighter and eager to break the path of his orbit, so eager to get closer, to escape escape escape. Escape the scalding prison of his own blasted heart and escape the deathgrip their two sides have on them. 

He’s so desperate, to be listened out, so desperate to find a way to protect the two of them, together, to not let the angel slip out of his grip once more.

And then Crowley leaves.

_Oh, I'm wishing I had what I'd taken for granted_

_I can't help you when I'm only gonna do you wrong_

Aziraphale doesn’t know a world without Crowley in it.

When he watches him walk away, he feels like his own world is ending. The weight of the whole Armageddon on his shoulders, the weight of Crowley’s pain, the weight of all the hurt he has caused. He’s alone and trying to fix it, so desperately, suddenly painfully aware of how he had always taken Crowley for granted, how he had always thought the demon wouldn’t leave him, wouldn’t get upset over their many fights. 

Oh, how wrong he had been.

Standing inside of the bandstand all he wants to do is reach out, run, stop him, but he can’t can’t can’t. All he can do is watch, because he knows if he tries to stop him, things will only get worse. He knows it’s all over, now. 

That light, flickering once more, reaching out for him still even when he hesitates. 

That bright star, coming to find him even when everything else is burning all around them.

_And there's always time to change your mind_

_Oh, there's always time to change your mind_

“Love, can you hear me?”

Crowley is brought out of his thoughts by a familiar voice, calling from somewhere behind him. He turns and smiles as he sees Aziraphale approaching him. 

“Yep. Sure can. Heard everything that you just said, angel.”

His words earn him a disbelieving look in response and he chuckles, moving forward to meet the angel halfway.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he hums as he opens his arms, pulling him closer. “So, how about we go get lunch? And then you can tell me everything you’ve just been trying to say. Promise I’ll be paying attention this time.”

“How about a picnic, my dear? I did promise you one, a long time ago...”

Crowley’s expression softens and he nods.

“Yeah. Let’s go for a picnic, angel.”

_Oh, there's always time to change your mind_

_Oh, love, can you hear me?_


End file.
